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The local newspaper runs Marguerite Kelly's Parenting Almanac every Tuesday. Yesterday she did a letter from a woman whose eight-year-old neighbor seems to be in training for a lucrative future as a female impersonator. Mrs. Kelly's response was that if he's allowed to continue in this, he might turn out gay but don't worry, gayness isn't contagious so your charming little goldenchild will turn out to be a perfect hetero who will one day enable you to buy a t-shirt that says "if I'd have only known grandchildren were so much fun, I'd have had them first."
My turn.
Dear Jim: My charming eight-year-old son and ravishing seven-year-old daughter have found a new playmate. He comes from a home where children are not cherished and valued, and he has developed some worrisome habits. My daughter reports that he likes to wear his mother's shoes around the house, that when he plays house he hits people if he can't be the mommy, and he likes to participate in the girls' makeup play, both putting it on the other little girls and having them put it on him. All the people on the block say he's turning into a homosexual and they won't let their sons out on the street when he's around because he'll make them gay. Do you have any advice? --Worried in Altamont
Dear Worried:Yes, I have some advice.
One, cut the shit, lady. We know it's your kid.
Two, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. We did a study at the American Homosexuality Research Institute. We borrowed one hundred healthy heterosexual male freepers' children and attempted to turn them gay by playing them Peter Allen records for eight hours. You will be happy to know that none of them turned homosexual. You will be less happy to know that all of them demanded piano lessons and started singing show tunes at the tops of their lungs--and there ain't nothin' more irritating than having to listen to an eight-year-old who can't sing trying to sing show tunes. You may also be happy to know that one hundred freeper fathers attempted to beat our asses--thank Buddha for pepper spray!
Now, he might BE homosexual--many Americans are. If he is, he was born that way and it's not your fault, it's just something that happens sometimes. And if he is, you can't "fix" him--he's always going to be gay.
And three, you simply have not realized a basic fact: your son has a bright future ahead of him. Look at RuPaul. Look at Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show. At Marilyn Manson. Ozzy. Twisted Sister. The members of KISS. The British troupe Monty Python. These performers all realized one simple fact: Makeup Means Money. Lots of it. Eight is the perfect age to start him on his path to fame and glory as a Heavy Metal Rock Musician. Here's what you do:
First, quit letting him wear your shoes. He will permanently damage his feet, and you'll never find your shoes. Get him some pumps that fit.
Second, quit letting your children wear that crappy-ass makeup they sell in the toy department. It doesn't look good on little girls. It looks worse on little boys. Get your son some good makeup, and quick. A discreet Mary Kay rep will be your best ally here; she'll come to your home, help them select suitable shades and deliver it. Let her do you too--you're probably still wearing the same lipstick shade your mom got you when you were fourteen.
Third, he needs some dresses that fit him because you can't play if your clothes are too big. If you're too embarrassed by this career path to go to Wal-Mart, surf the internet; children's dresses are easily found there.
Next, help him find his instrument. Rock and roll relies on four basic instruments: guitar, bass, piano and drums. Whichever he chooses, don't buy the cheap crap you find in toy stores. Go to a music store and get him a child-size instrument--eight-year-olds can't get their hands around the neck of a full-size Strat. If he picks the drums, choose an electronic kit if you can afford one; he can plug a set of headphones into the voice module and rock out all night long if he wants, and you'll retain your sanity because you'll never hear it. Also, if he becomes a drummer get him ballet shoes--it's hard to play footpedals in heels.
If he chooses any instrument but the drums, enroll him in voice lessons. He will be singing backup in just about any band he joins and he may wind up singing lead. If he can't sing, this will hurt him. Don't worry about this if he becomes a drummer; drummers sing about as well as pitchers hit.
Next, explain to him that his shoes, dresses and makeup are his "rock and roll clothes." He can wear his rock and roll clothes when he takes lessons and when he practices, but he has to wear boys' clothes all the rest of the time.
Then sign him up for football. Every young man needs a sport, and football is a good one. He might eventually get kicked off the team for putting opposing players in the hospital--they'll call him the little homo, this will piss him off and he'll wind up dropping them with a shoulder pad to the gut then kicking them in the balls when they're down--but the fresh air and exercise will do him good. And he may turn out to be a good football player.
He'll be happy to have such a cool mom. You'll be happy that he's not fucking up your good pumps, walking the streets in lipstick and beating up little girls anymore. And when he's become a Rich and Famous Rock Star, you'll be really happy.
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